


our love is real

by kinneyb



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:49:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26620132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: “You’re telling us you not only befriended a human, but are in love with him?” He raised an eyebrow. “And he loves you as well?”Geralt suddenly felt protective. “Yes,” he answered instantly. “Why is that so hard to believe?”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 20
Kudos: 766





	our love is real

**Author's Note:**

> written for one of my supporters!
> 
> twitter: queermight / korrwrites  
> tumblr: korrmin

Geralt hadn’t _purposely_ been hiding his relationship with Jaskier. Not from the public, but especially not from Eskel and Lambert. He hadn’t even realized he hadn’t told them yet when they were talking and he casually mentioned his partner, Jaskier, to the shocked faces of his brothers—

“What?” he asked with a frown, completely forgetting their previous conversation.

Lambert narrowed his eyes. “Your partner,” he repeated with a hint of amusement, and just as much skepticism. Eskel side-eyed Lambert, but he looked just as guiltily curious. Geralt stared back, holding his own. He gave a short nod. He supposed this was his first time mentioning Jaskier to them, a year since they had reunited after the mountain, and their relationship had changed in many ways. Before then, he hadn’t cared much to mention him during his visits to Kaer Morhen. Hadn’t deemed it important. Now he couldn’t imagine a person more important to him than Jaskier. “A _human?_ ”

Geralt nodded again. “A human,” he confirmed. Lambert snorted, shaking his head. “What?”

“You’re telling us you not only befriended a human, but are _in love_ with him?” He raised an eyebrow. “And he loves you as well?”

Geralt suddenly felt protective. “Yes,” he answered instantly. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

He knew why, he supposed. Witchers and humans had a long history of conflict. Before Jaskier, he had never even considered a serious relationship with one. Had sex, certainly, but that didn’t touch a flame to how he felt for Jaskier.

“A bard, you said?”

From Eskel, spoken with far less judgment and far more genuine curiosity. Geralt was only slightly grateful for that.

“Yes,” he said again, shifting his attention over to him. “If you haven’t noticed, we are not hardly as disdained as we used to be. You can thank him for that.”

He hadn’t appreciated him, back then. The things he had done— _accomplished_ —for Geralt, and even others like him. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. Suddenly his chest felt tight, missing him desperately. _Soon_ , he thought. Just one more week and he would be reunited with him.

Lambert snorted, tilting his head to the side. “Right,” he drawled. “Your partner, the _human_ bard.”

Geralt glared at him. “You honestly think I would _lie_ about this?” he asked in disbelief.

“No, of course not,” Eskel quickly answered for him, but there was no missing the still-present skepticism in his eyes. Even he doubted him. Geralt bristled, pressing his lips together.

Jaskier had hinted, before, at accompanying him to Kaer Morhen and yet Geralt had always been reluctant. That was a big step, something he never thought would happen. _Him_ , of all of them, bringing a lover back with him. Jaskier had never pushed, eyes bright with understanding. He just always nodded and kissed him. (“I understand. Go. I’ll be waiting.”)

Lambert laughed deeply, eyes twinkling. The bastard. “You always have been a _terrible_ liar, Geralt,” he said, clicking his tongue. “Could never prank us as children.”

“I am not lying,” Geralt shot back, too fast. Ironically, he felt like a child.

Eskel smiled slightly. Somehow that didn’t help him feel any better. “We’re not doubting you, Geralt,” he said. “We’re just— _surprised_. You never seemed interested in that kind of stuff, and with a human.”

“Supposedly,” Lambert swiftly intervened.

Geralt growled, low in his throat, chest rumbling. “Don’t believe me?” He tilted his chin up. A challenge in his eyes. “Accompany me next week; he will be waiting for me, as always.”

What was supposed to be an impulsive offer that they laughed off quickly turned to reality; a week later, they left Kaer Morhen together, following the same path down the mountain. Geralt felt that protective urge again as they descended, like he didn’t quite want to share Jaskier with them. It was selfish and made no sense.

If anything, his love for Jaskier meant he wanted him to know his family. The people he had had before him.

Lambert kept side-eyeing him, and it was obvious he still didn’t believe him. Eskel was a little more discreet about his disbelief, but not by much. Geralt ignored them, petting a hand down Roach’s neck. “I’m sure you missed him as well,” he muttered, knowing how close Jaskier got with every one of his horses, mostly by sneaking them a concerning amount of treats as if they had endless funds. Roach snorted in reply.

“I’m starting to worry for your mental health,” Lambert remarked.

Geralt lifted his gaze, smirking. “I’m starting to think you’re just jealous that I have a partner and you do not.” A sudden flurry of movement from the side, bursting out of the woods. Geralt was quick, though a little slow from months of no work. He slid off the back of Roach, sword already drawn, and barely caught the monster—just a forest dweller, aggressive but not very strong—before Lambert was tackled off his own horse.

A few more scurried out of the woods, hissing at the sight of their fallen companion. Geralt was getting soft, he knew, because he nearly felt bad for the beasts. Lambert and Eskel joined him off their horses, their own swords drawn. Geralt sighed, cracking his neck.

“Work starts early this year,” he drawled, and lunged forward.

It was an easy enough job, especially split between the three of them, but there was no avoiding the aftermath of a battle, even an easy one.

Once the last beast had fallen, Geralt wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and cursed quietly as his hand came back with grime—and _worse_ —from the battle. He had cleaned properly before they left, preferring to return to Jaskier in his best shape.

“What, brother?” he heard from his side, far too amused. Geralt grumbled, slashing his sword through the air to clean the bulk of disgust off it. His poor sword, freshly cleaned as well. “Upset over a little gore? Are you getting soft on us?”

Jaskier, the picky bastard, would probably turn his nose up the second he saw him. Even after so long, he had certain sensibilities he could not abandon.

(“No, Geralt.” A distant memory, Jaskier’s hand pressed to his chest after he’d just returned from a job, dirty and covered in monster-related grime. “Bath first,” he had smiled almost slyly, “ _then_ you’ll get your kiss.”)

He walked back to Roach. “Jaskier won’t like it,” he said simply, because it was the truth. Eskel exchanged a look with Lambert that portrayed just how much they still didn’t believe him.

“Your human,” Lambert said, and Geralt resisted the urge to snap (Jaskier was not _his_ human; he was his own human). “He can’t stand a bit of dirt? How does that work?”

Geralt mounted Roach with a loud sigh. He knew Lambert was baiting him—had always been like that—and yet he couldn’t resist a second longer. “He doesn’t mind _dirt_ ,” he said gruffly, “but even you know there is a difference between that and gore. A warm bath after a hunt is appreciated by _both_ parties.”

And if he was lucky, Jaskier would occasionally join him, but only if he deemed him not _too_ dirty.

Shaking his head, Lambert climbed onto the back of his own horse. Geralt grumbled as they descended the mountain, wiping dark gunk off his shoulders. He’d be lucky to get a hug from the bard in his sorry state, and unfortunately he wouldn’t even be able to blame him.

“You will survive,” he heard from Eskel, his voice a blend of amusement and fondness.

Geralt just grunted as they finally turned the last curve in the path, giving them a clear view of the bottom of the mountain. There was no missing Jaskier in his brightly-colored doublet, or Pegasus standing near him. Roach perked up at the sight of him.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” from Lambert. Geralt side-eyed him. “A human, and look - he isn’t even ugly.”

Geralt arched an eyebrow as Jaskier seemed to notice them for the first time, waving excitedly, eyes bright and his face split in a wide grin. “Really?” he asked blandly, and Lambert just shrugged, urging his horse on.

“I thought surely any human would have to have something wrong with them to accompany you.”

Geralt wasn’t even offended, used to his barbs. And how could he be angry when _Jaskier_ was waiting for him, looking as radiant as ever. He looked older, yes, yet with every new wrinkle Geralt just thought he looked _better_. Such was the power of love, Jaskier would say.

Continuing down the path, Geralt was off Roach as soon as he was close enough to—well, he paused in his action to embrace Jaskier, aware of his state, but Jaskier wasn’t deterred. Surging forward with a soft laugh, he threw his arms around Geralt’s neck and kissed him boldly on the mouth. At first Geralt wondered if he even noticed the others.

But then he was pulling back, looking almost shy. Geralt had never seen him look shy a day in his life.

“Sorry,” he said, licking his lips and glancing over his shoulder. “I probably shouldn’t have—I mean—”

Geralt shook his head, a gentle hand on his waist. “They know,” he said, and Jaskier looked pleased.

“Well, good,” he said before kissing him again, a little longer. Geralt could feel their eyes on the back of his head. He heard their soft whispers, and knew Jaskier couldn’t. Upon pulling back for a second time, Jaskier brushed some strands of snow-white hair out of his face. “You look well,” he said, and he spoke as if it was just the two of them. Geralt had always admired how he could do that. “I missed seeing your face, selfish bastard,” he added with a small grin, and—Geralt wasn’t sure he could ever love a person more.

Occasionally, he was terrified by that revelation. Not today.

Jaskier kissed him again, on the jaw this time, a quick press of warm lips, before he was turning toward Eskel and Lambert, both off their horses and standing awkwardly off to the side. Geralt suppressed a smirk.

“Thank you for taking care of him,” he said, and Eskel nodded, slowly smiling.

Suddenly Geralt realized he hadn’t even stopped to think about what they would think once they realized Jaskier was _real_. Or that he wasn’t lying or even twisting the truth. He was in love, for the first time (he had thought he knew love before Jaskier, but he had been sorely mistaken). With a human. A _male_ human.

Witchers weren’t exactly judgmental, given they faced enough judgement of their own, but Geralt had never really discussed these things with them. Hadn’t seen the point, given his aversion to companionship for so long.

But as soon as he started to feel the familiar burn of anxiety in his gut (because humans were wrong, he _felt)_ Eskel was stepping forward and extending a hand to Jaskier. Jaskier smiled and took it; Geralt watched as they shook hands and he would swear they had a silent conversation, their eyes locked for a few long seconds.

Finally Eskel pulled his hand back. “It is a pleasure to meet the man Geralt spoke so fondly of.”

“He was afraid you’d dump him when you saw the sorry state he was in,” Lambert piped up.

Jaskier blinked once before his gaze flickered back to his lover. “You _are_ disgusting, Geralt,” he said, “but thankfully I stumbled across a stream on my way here that will easily solve that particular problem and then—well.” He smiled slyly, and Geralt tried not to think too much about what Jaskier was implying, especially given they had an audience.

Lambert clicked his tongue. “Lucky bastard.”

Jaskier laughed loudly, leaning into Geralt’s side. “Well, _I’m_ up for the company if—”

A hand slapped over his mouth. “ _Don’t_ ,” Geralt growled, because _seriously_ , he did not want to think of Lambert in that way. They might not have been brothers by _blood_ , but they were in every way that truly mattered. Jaskier’s laughter couldn’t be contained by even his hand, growing louder and wilder.


End file.
